


Rediscoveries, Reintroductions, and Close Proximities

by whatsacleverusername



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Cockblocking Romance, Companionable Snark, Deepthroating, Emotional Constipation, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Gentle Sex, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, Implied Harvey Dent/Oswald Cobblepot, Inside jokes, Love Confessions, M/M, Original Character(s), Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Relationship(s), Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Break Up, Pubic Hair, Sarcasm, Slow Burn, fight scenes are fun, like way post, past Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma - Freeform, she's there for not even a whole scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23350297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsacleverusername/pseuds/whatsacleverusername
Summary: A lot can change in just a few months (following some well spent years.)
Relationships: Jonathan Crane/Bookworm
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. Rediscoveries

With a heavy sigh, Jonathan Crane launches another handwritten document folded like an airplane into the night air, watching the albino crow fly past him to attack it. At least _she_ seems to be having fun, filling the role of the paper shredder her human companion cannot afford. He’ll burn the scraps she brings back later to be sure. He tears another off to fold, briefly skimming over the notepaper- a failed formula, but he doesn’t trust anyone seeing even that- with a scoff of disgust. Shaking his head, he launches this one as well, legs dangling over the weathered shingles of the rotting yet surprisingly stable roof. He found this particular hideout towards the outskirts of the city near Old Gotham quite by accident after fleeing the scene of that evening’s crime, one of the Bat’s broodlings hot on his trail. Fortunately, the place had an underground cellar with access both in and outside of the house. It was remarkably easy to lose him in the dark, opening the inside door and slipping through the out. Additionally, a collapsed part of the roof creates an impromptu skylight and balcony suitable only for unhealthily light individuals like himself, perfect for watching the surrounding area without being watched. Hell, it served well enough as a hideout for two when necessary; he can recall a few times he’d diverted course to hide he and his confrère, rogues like Harleen, Jervis, and-

He sighs once more, recalling a night he and a particular ginger-brunet genius spent in the quaint old house, drinking and laughing and sharing gentle but meaningful touches when they were meant to be planning the next heist… Jonathan grimaces and throws the next airplane with more force than necessary, causing the crow- Amelia- to zoom after it. He’s being _ridiculous_. It’s been almost two years now, during which Edward had made it _abundantly_ clear he isn’t hung up on him in the least. Jonathan had genuinely left for his own personal safety and peace of mind after one final argument, the other rogue sending some of his henchmen after Jonathan to beat the shit out of him, yet… He still can’t help but miss that prick. Especially this time of year. When he’d left.

He’s drawn from his dreary thoughts when Amelia returns to perch on his leg, the remnants of a document held in her beak, looking up at him questioningly, almost as if worried. They look at each other in silence before Jonathan scratches her under the beak and moves her up to his shoulder, casting a displeased look at the stack of papers left to shred. Deciding he’ll just burn them all later, well away from the hideout so as not to cause suspicion, he picks up the stack and returns through the somewhat caved in roof of the house, dropping down from the rafters into what was once the master bedroom. Silently prowling through the dark building, a fine reflection of his current mood, he makes his way to the antiquated kitchen, dropping the stack of papers on the remarkably still standing table. Pausing to let Amelia hop onto the back of a chair, he retrieves the small, battery powered radio from a cabinet, the volume kept at a level only he can hear, sitting in the opposite chair and tuning it to a random news frequency in search of some distraction.

_“…CPD officials are still on the lookout for Gotham’s newest costumed criminal. So far, three different bookstores have been broken into across the city, one in Old Gotham, the Diamond District, and the Upper West Side, each with only a few pieces being reported missing. While most items are of expected high value, others seem trivial at best. Detectives are still trying to piece…”_

The radio continues to recap details of the report, but Jonathan allows his mind to begin wandering. It’s been an awful long time since he’s visited any of Gotham’s bookstores, or even thought of doing so… Neglecting to acknowledge the fact he hadn’t touched his last few literary hauls, he begins to recall his favorite stops, contemplating what he might like for new reading materials, the corners of his lips turning up ever so slightly as he ponders on his choices. Deciding on a quaint little shop with a lovely selection of vintage fiction, Jonathan turns off the radio and heads back to the master bedroom to collect his equipment.

Making quick work of the ever-the-same lock, Jonathan slips in through the back door, shaking his head. The idea of any establishment having naught but a faulty lock to defend it in this city is nothing short of amusing. The slight smirk under his mask drops into a scowl, however, when he notices the figure perusing the very section he’d had in his sights. Reaching for the sickle tied around his waist, he creeps silently over to a nearby shelf, standing against it, waiting until the stranger wanders over. He grips the weapon tightly, waits for the right moment, and-

He hesitates, utterly perplexed by the outrageous sight he’s met with. Surely no more than 5’8”, a man with large, green tinted goggles, a pencil tucked behind an ear, and a hat mounted reading lamp steps into view. Jonathan suppresses a scoff as he takes in the deep blue tailcoat with ornate designs of brown thread like some antique book cover, worn over a light blue dress shirt tucked into faded sage green fall-front trousers. He clutches three books to his chest with one leather gloved hand, the other idly tapping a finger against his chin.

“You aren’t supposed to be here.” The way the short man jumps almost makes up for his presence. Almost.

While obviously startled, the stranger recovers an _impressively_ irritating demeanor as he retorts, “I have far more business here than you ever could.”

His scoff audible this time, Jonathan snidely asks, “and who the hell are _you_?”

“Bookworm,” the other man says. Glaring as Jonathan scoffs once again, he sarcastically adds, “oh yes, and a man made of straw in search of a brain is the most _petrifying_ thing cogitable.”

“You watch your mouth, boy," Jonathan growls.

“Or what?” Bookworm challenges. “You'll give me hayfever? Oh, _please_.”

“Oh, I'll give you far worse than that,” Jonathan snarls, raising the sickle.

“Ah-ah, temper temper,” Bookworm scolds, shaking his head and taking the pencil from behind his ear.

Much to his confusion, Jonathan finds himself hesitating, a sudden odd sense of… _Nostalgia_ of all things washing over him. It dawns on him that he recognizes that voice, but only that. It serves Bookworm well, as the scientist is suddenly stuck to the bookshelf by a net fired from the end of the evidently fake pencil. The familiar sounding stranger makes his escape through an open window, activating and purposefully tripping an alarm while Jonathan struggles free. Of course they pick _now_ to update security… Finally detangling himself, Jonathan grumbles as he makes a hasty escape through the back door and up a fire escape to a rooftop, just in time to see the red and blue lights speeding towards the small store. Crouching down to peer over the stone ledge like the many gargoyles of the city, he cocks his head to the side as he listens to the sirens, racking his brain to try and place that voice. Though after a few minutes with no headway, he drops the mnemonic search and retreats with the officers below none the wiser.

Much to Jonathan’s annoyance- which grows into contempt, as it usually will- he butts heads with the new rogue again after that. And again after _that_. _And again_. Each time, he swears to himself he’ll best this Bookworm and take what he came for. Each time, he’s distracted by that confusing feeling and left wide open. Each time, the criminal traps him and escapes with the books _he_ was after. Each time, he’s left to wonder who he is and why he’s so certain he knows him, but to no avail. Lather, rinse, repeat. He nearly gives up after one encounter, but his stubborn nature combined with an infuriating “visit” from Edward- who, it then occurred to him, he hadn’t thought of again until then- drives him to give it one last shot. He doesn’t even want the books primarily anymore, just to finally best that infuriating, haughty, green horn criminal.

He gets a good shot at this, far better than those before, at Gotham Public Library, sneaking in just after closing. Quickly selecting his target- a rare edition of _the Portrait of Dorian Grey_ \- from the library’s inventory list and locating it, he’s certain he’s gotten the upper hand this time- But sure enough, Bookworm is there before him, with his asinine hat-lamp shining light while he works the case open.

“You son of a bitch!” Jonathan whispers harshly.

Jumping, but quickly covering it up, Bookworm gives a sharp, unfriendly laugh and removes the book from the case, not bothering to even glance at Jonathan. Gritting his teeth, Jonathan lunges forward, not giving Bookworm anytime to react as he attacks. Attempting to wrench the book away from him, he knees the other rogue in the jaw, only for something sharp to stab through his glove and force him to let go. They seperate, both rubbing their injuries and glaring, Bookworm clutching the book to his chest.

“Give me the book,” Jonathan orders lowly.

“Abso _lutely_ not!” Bookworm says. “If anyone deserves to come away from this skirmish with such a treasure, it’s he that co-wrote a paper on it; _me_.”

That same feeling comes back to Jonathan, only this time with the sensation of a slap to the face. Jonathan had co-written a paper with Gotham University’s then English professor while teaching there as well, but- He moved away a year and a half after Jonathan was fired, just before he started working at Arkham. He… Always assured him they were friends, that he could talk with him… Hell, they’d sent each other letters over the years, up until a year or so ago. He’d tell him if he came back. Wouldn’t he…?

“Professor Kingor…?” Jonathan asks tentatively. When the other man doesn’t stop his escape through a window once again, he shouts, “wait! _Edwin_!”

But he’s too late, Bookworm already out the window and earshot before he can finish his second word. Swearing aloud to himself, Jonathan smacks a hand to his forehead, the other balling up in a fist. He stands like this for a moment, fighting himself, trying to identify the lingering heavy feeling in his chest. His realization only exacerbates his struggle with himself; he _misses_ the other man, certain he’s finally solidified his identity. Lingering in the now empty part of the library, he takes a moment to get the flood of old memories and emotions under control before following Bookworm’s escape route. He looks around the area for a time, but soon scolds himself for being foolish and wasting his own time, properly fleeing.

The rogue’s identity continues to pester him after that meeting. He dwells on it as he returns to his hideout, debating with himself whether he’s right or not, trying to rationalize why one of the first people he could ever truly trust wouldn’t visit him or tell him he’d come back. It quickly gets to the point that he goes looking for previous days’ newspapers within two hours of leaving the library. Collecting what he can, he returns to base, pouring through the reports he gathered, looking for any sort of lead as to where Bookworm may show up next. It takes him three days and the better part of four nights, but he finally comes to a conclusion; the upcoming Literary History exhibit at the museum. It’s planned to feature rare manuscripts, editions, and rough drafts of famous works, the perfect target for a bibliophile thief. And not a moment too soon, as the exhibit is scheduled to open in two days, giving him time to properly plan his confrontation.

The evening of the exhibit’s opening, Jonathan disguises himself and mingles with the first crowd, quickly moving through it. He allows himself a small triumphant smile when he successfully swipes his target- a second edition of _the Legend of Sleepy Hollow_ \- without incident or interference, departing from the crowd and slipping away to a back storage room to wait. He hides himself away in the shadows, watching as a worker walks right past him, heading the same way he just came from. Shedding his disguise and donning his costume, no sooner does he tie his rope belt than Bookworm comes snooping around. He watches for a moment, confused to find his heart racing and feet hesitant to move.

Finally, he steps out into view, holding up the book and asking, “looking for this?”

Jumping back in surprise, Bookworm stutters for a moment before crossly demanding, “hand me that this _instant_ , you-”

“Why?” Jonathan asks. “Why this specific book? What’s your fascination with it? Why, everytime I-”

“It’s a dear friend’s favorite,” Bookworm interrupts, his demeanor softening almost immediately, like dropping an act. “I… I desired it for sentimental reasons.”

Sighing, deeming that as good a confirmation as any, Jonathan removes his hat and mask, Bookworm covering his gasp with a hand.

After a tense, silent moment of staring at each other, the rogue timidly asks, “is… Is that really you, Jon…?”

“So it _is_ you,” Jonathan says, unable to keep the seething tone from his voice. Not giving Edwin- _Edwin_ \- time to reply, he snaps, “why didn’t you tell me you returned? Why didn’t you come to visit me in Arkham? Why didn’t you even send me a damn letter to tell me you’d be visiting?”

“Jon, I- I’m so sorry, I-” Edwin splutters. “I intended to- I was going to, I promise, I’m sorry I didn’t sooner, I meant to, I- I wanted to bring you somethings to read, gifts, I-I- I’m so sorry, Jon, I _swear to you_ I was going to bring them to you and visit for as long as they’d let me.”

His indignant outrage receding despite his efforts to keep it burning, Jonathan asks, “…How long did you know it was me?”

“I-” Edwin looks away. “…I had my suspicions, but…”

“But you wanted to make certain,” Jonathan finishes.

“I like to be as certain as possible, and collect what information I can before forming any assumptions,” Edwin explains. “I didn’t want to believe the news or the files…”

Blinking once, Jonathan feels his outrage returning as he asks, “‘ _files_?’”

“Arkham files,” Edwin elaborates. “I… ‘Compulsively curious,’ you know. A regular old obsessive epistemophile, not to be redundant.”

Jonathan starts to ask something else, but a guard suddenly barges into the room, ordering them both to freeze. Glancing at each other for a moment far too short, the two rogues flee in different directions, forcing the guard to pick one to go after. She doesn’t catch up to either, however, both catching a glimpse of the other as they escape.


	2. Reintroductions

The next week proves incredibly difficult for Jonathan, his insomniac habits worsening over the days as he tries to keep his mind busy. Somehow, the confirmation that it _is_ his old colleague and- dare he say it- friend only troubles him more. He continues to dwell on the matter despite his best efforts not to, stuck right back in the same rut he was in searching for Bookworm’s identity, only now on the other side of the hill. He struggles with himself again, still unwilling to admit he desperately wants to see the other man again, the old wound so deeply buried under scar tissue from years of avoidance. The feeling that he should be looking for Edwin won’t leave him be, but he continues to try and ignore it, forcing himself to focus on his work. He’s _the Scarecrow_ , after all. He doesn’t need to go running back to someone that left him years ago at one of his most vulnerable moments, populated by opiod addiction, alcoholism, and self destruction. He’s better than that.

Yet soon enough, his stubbornness cracks and, as if on autopilot, he returns to that first bookstore at which he had met the new rogue, this time sans costume. Only to find the exact person he had in mind waiting for him on a rooftop. However, he isn’t angered by being beaten to the location on this occasion. He’s forgone his goggles this time in favor of glasses, replacing his extravagant attire for a scarf, coat, and sweater combination, the other man’s somber yet bright blue eyes doing nothing to hide his current emotions.

“I thought you might come back here,” Edwin quietly says.

“We both did,” Jonathan agrees.

Edwin nods. Both stay silent for a moment until he says, “it’s lovely to see you again. Ah- _Properly_ , rather.”

Jonathan nods. He simultaneously tries to smile and keep himself from smiling, turning away briefly to look at the city beyond, subconsciously shuffling his feet.

Following his line of sight before returning to look at Jonathan, Edwin asks, “would… Would you like to visit somewhere less _open_?”

Jonathan raises an eyebrow, thinking the offer over, and nods. Edwin smiles at this, walking past him and gesturing for him to follow. With anyone else, Jonathan’s usual sense of suspicion wouldn’t allow him to even entertain such a request, but he has to force himself to keep an even pace with Edwin as he leads him down a fire escape and to a brunette limousine, an older man in a black suit opening the door for them. Jonathan stops at this sight, giving Edwin a skeptical look.

With a small chuckle as he steps in, he says, “I assure you this isn’t nearly as formal an invitation as the vehicle may suggest.”

Narrowing his eyes slightly, Jonathan cautiously enters the limousine as well, sitting across from Edwin. He's immediately off put by the high end interior, sitting stiff even as Edwin lounges comfortably in his seat, speaking to the man as he gets into the driver's seat.

“The Assemblage, please,” Edwin says with a smile before turning to Jonathan. “This is Cal, my chauffeur.”

“Prefer Mr. Frederickson, though,” the driver adds conversationally. “I'd shake your hand, but I need both mine on the wheel right now.”

Edwin's smile brightens, only to disappear when he notices Jonathan's rather tight expression. “What's wrong, J?” he asks.

Jonathan only answers with a quiet grunt. He narrows his eyes through the open glass divider at Mr. Frederickson, his lips sinking into a suspicious frown. _Less open_ maybe, but this wasn't what he expected at all, and he was never fond of surprise plus ones. Looking between Jonathan and Mr. Frederickson a few times, Edwin procures a bottle of wine and a glass from a compartment next to his seat.

“Would you care for a drink?” he tries.

Jonathan shakes his head and mumbles, “I'm trying not to.”

“Ah,” Edwin says quietly, hesitating to pour himself some.

He looks over his glass at Jonathan for a moment, worry creasing his brow, but quickly looks away when he turns back around.

“Where exactly are we going?” Jonathan asks, shifting in his seat to cross a leg over the other.

“Oh, not far,” Edwin quickly assures. “It shouldn't be much longer.”

“That doesn't answer my question,” Jonathan points out.

Edwin chews his lip before responding, watching the night scenery go by outside the window. “…You're aware how long it can take to locate and obtain certain volumes and editions of texts, correct?”

“Yes?” Jonathan answers expectantly.

“Well…” Swirling his glass, looking down at it now instead, Edwin nervously explains, “There… Is a chance I may have been… I might have returned earlier than you realize.”

He braces himself for Jonathan to voice his anger, sinking slightly in his seat. After a moment of silence, he chances looking up at the scientist, only to see him now looking out the window. His jaw clenches once before he speaks, folding his long, sharp nailed fingers together in his lap.

“May I smoke in here?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“Ah- I would, um, prefer if you didn't…” Edwin answers.

Stiffly turning his head, slightly cocked to the sight, he keeps eye contact with Edwin as he rolls down his window, takes a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his coat, and lights one, all the while his icy blue eyes bore into Edwin's skull with a cold, quiet anger. When he finally turns away to blow a puff of smoke out the window, Edwin exhales the breath he didn't realize he had been holding. He doesn't believe Jonathan would attack him, but that doesn't mean he's any less intimidating. A quality he can't help but compare to the quiet young man he'd met, taught, then worked with years ago…

Clearing his throat, Edwin asks, “how, er- How have Nightmare and Craw fared since last I heard from you?”

Jonathan shoots him another glare as he takes a drag, silencing any further attempts of conversation and ignoring the swarm of questions buzzing around in his head. _Very_ different than Edwin remembers him in person…

Deciding it would be best not to push him, Edwin takes another sip from his glass of wine and returns to looking out the window as well, sneaking glances at Jonathan as they drive in silence. He recalls the day he and Jonathan had first met, the meeting he and the then psychology professor scheduled to get Jonathan a job as the latter’s teaching assistant, the one occasion he had to take a sick day and Jonathan filled in for him, the fateful night after work he asked Jonathan to… The day he left, the last time he saw Jonathan in person, how it broke his heart to see the young man destroying himself with grief…

He's thankful to be interrupted by Mr. Frederickson announcing they've arrived, thanking him and taking his hand with a smile as he steps out of the limousine. When the chauffeur goes to do the same for Jonathan, however, he's met with a dangerous glower as the tall man steps past him, maintaining eye contact as he drops his cigarette and grinds it under a shoe before turning away to follow behind Edwin.

Looking around as they walk, Jonathan takes care to observe the building's details. First and foremost, it doesn't look occupied from the outside, or even _safe to enter_ in the first place. A large garage door opens adjacent to the semi hidden entrance they use to access the spacious warehouse room, practically empty save for a few chairs, shipping containers, cameras in relatively hidden places, a van, and the limousine as it’s parked. Edwin leads him through the room to a not quite as large, but still considerably sized, wood door and the passage beyond, letting out into an almost fantastical looking space that makes Jonathan do a subtle double take. Shelves bend along winding paths like a fantastical orchard of trees, stretching up to the distant and heavenward ceiling, layer upon layer of the dark wood structures holding countless books. The odd ladder against the monolithic shelves and clearings containing small common areas, complete with lanterns on tables and comfortable looking armchairs, are scattered along the path Edwin effortlessly guides Jonathan down, the scientist having to pull himself away from studying the voluminous collection more than once so as not to be left behind. Lord knows he’d be lost within the twists and turns.

After what feels like an indefinable amount of time, partially due to being stoically enamoured by the mass amount of literature stockpiled in the building, glimpses caught of a balcony that suggests a second floor exciting Jonathan further, Edwin opens the door to a small, cube shaped structure in what would be reasonable to consider the heart of the great library and gestures for Jonathan to enter. Within is a warmly lit office space, a desk made of the same dark, rich wood situated in line with the door, two plush office chairs sitting facing each other on opposite sides of the desk. Removing his coat and placing it on a rack by the door, Edwin nods towards the closest chair as he moves the other one from behind the desk.

Once both men are situated in their chairs, Edwin says, “before we fully get to talking, I feel I’d be remiss if I didn’t offer you something to drink- non alcoholic, of course. Cocoa, tea, coffee-”

His restrained awe in his expression replaced by the vague disdain from earlier, Jonathan answers, “coffee. _Black_.”

“The same as ever, eh?” Edwin asks with a smile, rolling his chair with a kick over to the wall.

Gently knocking thrice on a metal hatch there, he inputs something into a keypad just to the side before opening it to reveal a line of five kettles on small burners, only two of which are visibly active. What looks like a pneumatic tube stolen straight from a bank dispenses two packets just as the kettles begin to whistle surprisingly fast, one an obvious tea bag while the other appears to be paper folded up in a plastic sleeve. After putting the tea bag in one kettle, however, it becomes apparent the second packet is a paper coffee filter and, of course, coffee grounds. He removes the lid of a presumably empty kettle, putting the filter over the top and slowly pouring water from a full one over it. Retrieving a coffee mug and tea cup from a cabinet below the hatch, he carefully fills each with their respective drinks one at a time.

“It takes longer than I would like, and I’ll certainly have to workshop it later,” Edwin states, slowly rolling over with the two drinks to hand Jonathan his, “but it’s still rather pleasant to be able to make a nice beverage in one's own office.”

Biting back a snarky remark about the much simpler alternatives, Jonathan takes his mug in a calloused hand, not at all bothered by the heat radiating from the ceramic’s contents. Before the steam can fog up his glasses, he takes a small sip from the mug- and forcibly hides the surprise from his expression. Pour over usually isn’t this flavorful, much less tasteful at all. Probably a fancy ass blend, knowing the other man’s funds. At an expectantly questioning look from Edwin, Jonathan raises his eyebrows and nods, drinking some more.

Knowing he won’t get any further response, Edwin says, “it truly is very good to see you again. To think I once asked you-”

Jonathan looks into his mug as he interrupts, “my answer is still the same. Mostly.”

“No, no, I know, J,” Edwin assures, deciding not to inquire about _mostly_. “I was just thinking- We’ve come full circle now, more or less, haven’t we? I think the first time we properly sat with each other, and the last time on university grounds, was in two remarkably similar chairs over tea and coffee, much like this.”

Jonathan only grunts again in acknowledgement, taking another sip of his coffee. “How long have you been back in Gotham?”

Spluttering slightly, fortunately before he’d raised his cup to his lips, Edwin says, “well, that’s-”

“ _How long_?” Jonathan insists.

“Um-” Edwin says, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Two months, three weeks, and five days. Give or take six months going back and forth to set up this collection and build up a substantial criminal career without catching the public’s collective eye. Not before I wanted to, at least.”

Studying Edwin for a moment, reading his expression and body language in the lamplight, Jonathan deems the answer truthful and satisfactory, turning his attention back to his coffee yet again as he finally begins to relax his posture somewhat in his seat. If Edwin can neglect mentioning his return, Jonathan can forgo his semi-recent self discovery on his orientation. Lord knows it would likely unnerve the quiet man at best to mention he was romantically involved with a high profile individual like _the Riddler_ no more than a year and seven months ago. Or give the inquisitive bastard something else to ask him about.

Clearing his throat and taking a drink of his tea, Edwin carefully asks, “I… Suppose it would be rather bold of me to inquire as to what _you’ve_ been up to recently?”

Jonathan scoffs at that, the faintest hint of humor in the noise of well practiced disdain, and says, “taking the time to build a ‘substantial criminal career’ myself. Nothing too unusual.”

Taking a second to see the sarcasm in his tone, Edwin chuckles lightly and says, “you old spalpeen.”

“You’re older than I am by four years and sum odd days,” Jonathan points out.

“Oh, don’t _remind_ me,” Edwin says, rolling his eyes. “Do you think I don’t know it enough already?”

“It’s not as though anyone can tell,” Jonathan says. “You aren’t the one with looks twice his age.”

“You’ve aged well,” Edwin assures.

Taking his turn to roll his eyes, Jonathan changes the subject, asking, “what purpose does this building even serve?”

“Officially, my trade hasn’t changed too significantly,” Edwin answers. “I bind books, repairing them for patrons while they look through the shelves as they wait.”

“A library esque museum of sorts, then?” Jonathan asks.

“Exactly!” Edwin says. “I can’t tell you on how many occasions business associates have attempted to call it a _shop_ of all things. Ah, but, not so de jure… I buy and sell the kind of information one cannot find in encyclopedias and dictionaries. I’m sure you know what I mean.”

“Right,” Jonathan says with an unimpressed frown. “So you’re copying Ed Nygma.”

“Wh- _No_!” Edwin retorts indignantly. “I- I also tinker with-”

“Riddlerbots,” Jonathan interrupts.

“I-” Edwin stutters, “I have ties with Penguin and-”

“They might as well be fraternity brothers,” Jonathan states.

Desperately searching for something else, Edwin blurts out, “I steal books!”

Pretending to consider that, just to tease further, Jonathan says, “it’s a start.”

“See?” Edwin says. “Additionally, I’m nowhere near as narcissistic as his reputation would suggest, and far more pleasant if I may say so.”

“Thank Christ for that,” Jonathan grumbles bitterly.

Before Edwin can ask about the scientist’s tone of experience born hatred, a knock at the door startles both of them, Jonathan quickly sitting up straight and rigid once more to glare at the wood.

Holding a hand up to Jonathan, Edwin says, “come in.”

Opening the door just enough to poke his head inside, a man at almost Jonathan’s height glances at the glaring man before saying, “next meeting is in 10.”

Huffing and shaking his head, Edwin says, “I knew it was getting late… Thank you, Alexie. I won’t be much longer.”

With a nod, the man retreats, closing the door behind him.

Sighing, Edwin turns back to Jonathan and says, “I’m afraid we’ll have to finish catching up later.”

Hiding his frown, his hurt anger just beginning to subside enough to enjoy the visit, Jonathan starts to say something, only to stop as Edwin hands him a smartphone. He gives it a confused look, then the same to Edwin.

“To stay in touch,” Edwin explains. “Not to worry, I’ve modified it to be virtually untraceable, and my end has an external signal jammer. You won’t give either of us away with this. I’ve tested the system in its entirety enough times to be absolutely certain.”

Taking the phone and looking it over, Jonathan stands and sets his mug on the desk, commenting, “well, aren’t _you_ just a regular James C. Maxwell.”

“Oh, I- Um-” Edwin giggles sheepishly, rubbing his suddenly pink cheek.

Fortunately, Jonathan genuinely doesn’t notice- for once- curiously investigating the seemingly normal phone as he heads towards the door.

“Ah- Mr. Fredrickson can drive you home if you’d like,” Edwin offers.

Shaking his head, Jonathan plainly says, “I can walk.”

Not allowing him any time to insist, Jonathan gives him a slight smirk before leaving through the door, which only makes Edwin blush furiously as he goes. Moving his chair back behind his desk and the dirty dishes to the conveyer next to the cabinet, carrying them off to be washed, Edwin sits back in his chair, trying to will the warm flush away from his face and fighting a giddy smile as he awaits his meeting.

Less than a month later, Jonathan is understandably surprised to receive an invitation from a group of rogues in the form of Harvey Dent pulling up to his hideout, changed from the outskirt abandoned building to a smaller warehouse in the middle of the West Side. He agrees if only to get away from the location, no doubt every individual in a five mile radius hearing the armored truck arrive, but quickly adds on a condition upon recognizing the green clad man in the passenger’s seat leaning against Harvey and giving Jonathan a smug sneer. Hastily heading into the back of the vehicle, ignoring the more friendly faces within, he sinks in his seat to avoid the taunting, emerald gaze.

He huffs and hangs his head, retrieving the phone he was given and reading over the texts that had been sent back and forth, providing some degree of comfort to read something from a more pleasant acquaintance. Adding another, he warns the recipient to meet them at an unimportant location should he agree, unless he wants his hideaway being outed like his just was. Much to his relief, Edwin agrees very quickly, and he informs Harvey of the street. There’s no way in hell he’s going to another couple bars with Harvey Dent without someone to keep him dry, and like hell Dent or anyone else present would. Least of all _him_.

Climbing into the truck with some difficulty, Edwin looks around the cabin, exchanging polite smiles with the occupants, Echo and Query waving to him, before noticing Jonathan hiding in the back. His smile immediately broadens and he makes his way to sit next to him, happily greeting him and inquiring about his “friends.” Until Jonathan gives him a cautionary look, both settling into silence as the scientist glares at the others watching them.

They hardly even make it a block before Edward’s grating voice asks, “might I be so bold as to ask how you two know each other, Mr. …?”

“Edwin, please, no Mr. involved,” the bookish man answers before Jonathan can warn him not to. “Jonathan and I were once employed at Gotham University together as Psychology and English professors respectively.”

“ _Really_ , now?” Edward asks, twisting in his seat to sneer back at Jonathan. “I didn’t think many of his associates there could stand our good doctor Crane. Certainly not after _pulling a gun in the middle of a lecture_.”

“Cut it off, Eddie,” Selina Kyle warns, gently but meaningfully swatting his arm.

“I just wanted to make certain our newest colleague understands just who he’s sitting with,” Edward says. Turning back to Edwin, he asks, “you’re the Bookworm, aren’t you?”

Obviously surprised, Edwin asks, “how- How did you know?”

“I had an inkling, though you also just told me,” Edward says, grinning coyly. “After all, Jonny Boy _does_ have a type.”

Catching Jonathan sinking further in his seat, Edwin begins to make an equally scathing remark in return, only for the scientist to nudge him and shake his head with pleading eyes.

Lowering his voice, Edwin asks, “what does he mean, you have a type?”

Jonathan shakes his head again, leaning against the plate glass window and focusing on the floorboards.

Thinking for a moment, Edwin asks, “were you-”

“I will inform you when we get there,” Jonathan quickly interrupts, still not looking at him.

“Does he mean-” Edwin tries again.

“ _Edwin_ ,” Jonathan hisses.

Frowning, but silencing his burning questions until further notice, Edwin nods slightly and gazes past Jonathan out the window. Studying his face for a moment, Jonathan looks as well, turning his head to watch the streets go by and try guessing which bar they’re headed to first. Mildly surprising him, he recognizes the route to Tricorner, the feeling of dread swallowing him up further as he reasons that means they’re headed to the Iceberg Lounge. No doubt Edward’s choice. He should’ve turned right the hell around and left as soon as he saw that walking eyesore of a reprobate bastard through the windshield…

He doesn’t have any time to dwell on this as they soon pull up to the Lounge, all of them getting out of the truck as a very scared looking valet, no doubt a new guy, replaces Harvey in the driver’s seat. As they all venture inside, a young woman with a surprising amount of piercings for the establishment leading them to one of the rogue designated rooms, Jonathan keeps very close to Edwin as they both stay towards the back of the group. As soon as he can, he breaks off from the rest of them, quickly sitting at a table away from the others. The young woman- Jackdaw or something- tries to offer him something to drink, but he just waves her off, putting his elbows on the table to prop his chin up in his hands. Passing her as she heads over to the group, Edwin sits next to Jonathan, gently touching his shoulder.

“Are you alright, J?” he asks, brow wrinkling in concern.

Glancing over his shoulder at the other six in the room, Jonathan nods and mumbles, “yes. To answer your earlier question.”

“Pardon?” Edwin asks.

“You asked if the Riddler and I were dating,” Jonathan explains, looking at the table. “Yes. A couple years ago.”

Furrowing his brow, Edwin asks, "so you _are_ g-"

"No," Jonathan interrupts.

"So-" Edwin tries again.

"B... Yes," Jonathan answers, mumbling again.

“…My apologies,” Edwin says.

Jonathan only shrugs in reply, beginning to tap his long nail against the table. Gazing back over at the others, watching the five laugh as Jackdaw walks off, able to hear said rogue’s loud voice over the other’s. Even the gruffer individual, Two-Face.

“At least now I know for certain I was correct about my being far more pleasant than he,” Edwin mumbles, giving Jonathan a smirk.

He scoffs at that. “It’s not exactly a close call.”

“Right you are,” Edwin admits with a nod. “I am awfully easy to get along with.”

Rolling his eyes, Jonathan says, “I have the strangest sense of deja vu right now.”

“I am not _that_ much like him,” Edwin says defensively. “…Am I?”

“Thank fuck no,” Jonathan affirms.

“Language, Mr. Crane,” Edwin says.

“English, Professor,” Jonathan teases.

Giving him a faux incredulous gasp, Edwin breaks down into giggles as Jonathan quietly chuckles at his expression. Shifting in his chair to better face Edwin, Jonathan gives him a look in return, smiling just a little more as he watches him continue to giggle.

“You’re terrible,” Edwin says, playfully smacking the table.

“And you’re a perfect angel?” Jonathan challenges, raising an eyebrow.

“More so than you are,” Edwin shoots back.

Interrupting their banter, none other than Oswald Cobblepot walks up to Edwin, loudly saying, “I _thought_ that was you, dear boy! How has the hired help been treating you?”

“Oh, they’re doing very well, thank you, Ossie,” Edwin says, brightening up. “Hugo and Lombardi are of great help around the Assemblage, moving things and whatnot.”

“Pleased to hear it,” Oswald says with a sharp toothed grin. Appearing to just now notice Jonathan sitting there, avoiding eye contact, he considers the closeness with which they’re sitting and teasingly asks, “is there any chance _he_ and you…?”

Winking, Edwin slyly says, “no more than you and Mr. Dent.” Laughing as Oswald begins to deny the claim, Edwin adds, “no, no, we’re simply old friends.”

“Ah, I see,” Oswald says, quickly fixing his demeanor. “That’s all well and good. You could do far better well away from his ilk, you know.”

His friendly demeanor gone like a light, Edwin narrows his eyes slightly and says, “I assure you that your opinion of _my friend’s_ quality is misinformed and incorrect.”

“I-” Grimacing, Oswald says, “my apologies, I didn’t mean any- It’s simply that- Ahem, _history_ , you know.” He punctuates his word by shooting a leer at Jonathan, who briefly glowers back at him.

“I know very well,” Edwin retorts, “which is how I can be so certain you are sorely mistaken, _Oswald_.”

Looking between the two of them in silence for a moment, Oswald huffs and walks away towards the other table, Edwin calling goodbye with deceptive cheeriness before turning away. He shakes his head at Jonathan, waving over Jackdaw to ask for a glass of water.

“Suppose you weren’t wrong about two things,” Jonathan comments as she walks away. “More or less.”

“Pardon me if I still don’t see the allure of picking on you,” Edwin says, more snippy than intended.

“No, no, that’s- I just meant you said-...” Sighing, Jonathan shakes his head and says, “you really don’t have to defend me like that. I’m no Johnny-come-lately in his 20’s anymore.”

“No, but that doesn’t mean people are anymore allowed to treat you poorly,” Edwin says.

“I can stand up for myself,” Jonathan reminds.

Putting his hand on his shoulder again, Edwin gently squeezes and says, “we’re friends, Jon. I _care_ about you. I know you can fend for yourself perfectly well, but that doesn’t mean I can’t watch out for your wellbeing, or that I won’t.”

Falling silent for a moment, studying Edwin’s expression, Jonathan simply nods, quietly mumbling something. Edwin smiles softly, reaching up to brush a piece of hair out of Jonathan’s face before he realizes what he’s doing, and that the touch averse man is allowing him to, much to his surprise.

Across the room, Edward, Echo, Query, and Selina exchange a glance as they subtly watch the occupants of the lone table, Harvey plenty distracted talking with Oswald. They silently bet each other on how completely oblivious Jonathan is to the obvious look of adoration in his eyes, the lost puppy expression he has everytime Edwin speaks, how blatantly head over heels he is. Huffing, Edward glances at Harvey and Oswald as he begins to stand up, until all three ladies stare daggers at him, wordlessly warning him not to interfere. Raising his hands in surrender, Edward settles back in his seat to watch with the others, certainly not any degree of jealous. Even if that’s obviously what that conniving hick is trying. Not that it will work. Edward is far above falling for that. However, as soon as he notices the two getting up, Edwin thanking Jackdaw as they head for the door, Edward quickly jumps up to follow them, Selina looking at the genius’ cousins and all three hastily tailing behind to stop him from trying to start anything. They quickly catch up to Edward, Selina walking in front of him to keep them separated.

Purposefully not paying attention to the group following them, Jonathan scoffs as Edwin says, “I’m serious, Jon. Ossie isn’t _that_ bad if you can play nice with him.”

“Right, and how many hoops do you have to jump through first?” Jonathan asks.

“You and I both know the proper question is ‘how much one has to pay him,’” Edwin points out. “Though honestly, he simply has difficulty trusting people. Not unlike-”

Cutting him off with a fake gag, Jonathan says, “spare me the comparison or I’ll throw you in the river.”

“You wouldn’t,” Edwin says matter-of-factly.

“I would,” Jonathan shoots back. “Where do you think I’m taking you?”

“Ah-ah, sitting by the river to look at the night cityscape was _my_ idea, Edison,” Edwin teases.

“Keep that attitude up and I’ll steal your kinetograph plans,” Jonathan shoots back.

“Kineto _scope_ ,” Edwin corrects.

“Close enough,” Jonathan says with a sigh.

They continue back and forth like this, laughing with and teasing each other, not noticing when their hands brush every so often or one moves closer to the other. Before long, they stop at the riverside, one of the bridges back into the city just down the street, resting in the parking lot of an old, long abandoned factory. Both sitting on the ends of a concrete marker, they look out over the water at the city reflected in it, even Jonathan smiling at least a little. Checking behind them, the other four still a ways behind, Edwin slowly scooches somewhat closer, smiling at Jonathan when he gives him a curious glance.

“I know I’ve said it before,” Edwin says, “but I truly do enjoy seeing you again. I missed you immensely while I was away.”

Jonathan nods, both in acknowledgement and agreement. Edwin smiles just a little bit brighter as he picks up on the latter.

“I didn’t want to leave,” he adds.

“Yet you did,” Jonathan points out.

His smile fading, Edwin looks at the ground, saying, “I know… It was selfish of me to leave when you needed my support, but- It was killing me to watch you all but kill yourself. I- I know how much teaching meant to you, but what you started doing to yourself after you were fired-”

“I stopped,” Jonathan says, cutting him off.

“I know you did, but-” Edwin tries again.

“I stopped,” Jonathan repeats. “For good now.”

Regarding him for a long moment, Edwin drops it, saying, “I’m very glad to see you did. I worried.”

“I know,” Jonathan says. Sheepishly, he adds, “I’m.”

“Don’t be, it’s not important,” Edwin assures. “What matters is we’re both here now, and you’re well. I won’t be leaving again, either, just to make sure you _stay_ well.”

With a teasing wink from Edwin, Jonathan chuckles and shakes his head. “You’ll have to up your buspirone, or whatever you’re taking now.”

“You think I haven’t preemptively?” Edwin gasps in mock offense. “I remember what Gotham is like, and I don’t need a nigh photographic memory to do so.”

“Fair enough,” Jonathan says, smiling his awkward, crooked smile again. “I… I am glad you’re back as well.”

Edwin’s smile returning as well, they both turn to face each other again, Jonathan taking note of that different feeling in his chest he’s gotten everytime Edwin spoke to him over the phone or sent him a message. It only seems to increase as the other man sets his hand on his shoulder for the third time that night, the touch slow and gentle with care not to startle Jonathan. Studying Edwin’s face in the light of the few streetlamps, Jonathan can feel his own expression softening as they share a quiet moment, a sudden need to do something he isn’t sure of exactly what confusing him. Half of him wants to see what happens, but the other half is terrified of making a fool of himself. Continuing to gaze fondly at Edwin, however, leads him to slowly lift his right hand, reaching towards him to-

The sudden sound of police sirens startling both of them, they whip their heads around in the direction of the noise just in time to watch the four that finally caught up do the same. All six of them quickly flee the area, splitting up in different directions like frightened mice. Jonathan and Edwin run down the street in the opposite direction of the bridge, towards the other one connecting to the rest of Gotham, sprinting until the latter is completely out of breath. Finally stopping at a brick wall, they both lean back against it to rest, starting to laugh between panting.

“I think,” Edwin manages to say, “we should- Part ways for the night. I have to- Get up early tomorrow. Unless- You’d let me- Get you a ride home.”

“No, that’s alright,” Jonathan declines, shaking his head. “I have to… Find somewhere- Else after Dent picked me up in _that_.”

“You could always- Stay with me,” Edwin offers. “You know I wouldn’t mind.”

Shaking his head again, Jonathan holds up a finger as he struggles for a moment, saying, “I prefer living alone. Not that- I don’t appreciate it.”

“I understand,” Edwin says with a smile. “Of course- You’re not done with seeing me. Not for a while.”

“‘Course not,” Jonathan agrees. “You can’t get out of this mire that quickly.”

Laughing, Edwin waves his hand for Jonathan to stop, having to catch his breath all over again.

“Keep making me- Asphyxiate, and you might- Be surprised,” Edwin jokes.

“Okay, alright,” Jonathan says, chuckling.

They fall into a companionable silence as their breathing returns to normal, Jonathan wiping his forehead a few times as they rest. Eventually, Edwin hesitantly says goodbye to Jonathan, waving to him as he begins to call someone. Jonathan waves back as he leaves, that feeling returning to him as he walks away into the night, resisting the urge to glance back at Edwin.

“You’re getting awful famous now, aren’t you?” Jonathan asks, leaning against the air vent sticking up from the roof’s surface.

“My _alias_ is, yes,” Edwin corrects. “Precisely as I have intended.”

“Of course,” Jonathan says, smirking under his mask.

While they had met a few times in the last few weeks, this occasion was not planned, but neither are opposed to it. It’s nice to not have any third parties present to heckle them, suggesting their friendship is something more or trying to draw one of their attentions away from the other. To simply linger before their individual heists, discussing plans and continuing to fill in their decade of separation’s blanks. While Jonathan knew Edwin traveled frequently during his absence, receiving letters from many different states, he didn’t quite realize how far he’d traveled. Edwin assures him he should have letters coming in from Cuba, Egypt, Italy, Japan, and Tibet at some point, among many other foreign places. Jonathan comments he’s never been farther west than Louisiana, much less outside of the country, to which Edwin insists he travels with him somewhere at some point.

Of course, such meetings between criminals are always interrupted, the Caped Crusader infamous around the world swooping in and startling them both.

Not giving either any chance to react, he stands up at his full height, stating, “stay where you are. You’re both coming with me.”

Gritting his teeth, allowing Edwin to hide behind him, Jonathan lets his anger cover his fear as he says, “we haven’t done anything to warrant-”

“You’re both planning on robbing two separate businesses tonight,” Batman says.

“Which we haven’t yet,” Jonathan shoots back.

Ignoring this fact, Batman says, “you have one chance t-”

“Oh, _piss off_ ,” Jonathan growls. “Leave us be before I add a charge.”

“You’re threatening me,” Batman says, making Jonathan scoff.

“Threatening implies I won’t go through with it,” the scientist says, voice coated with venom.

Working up the courage to speak, Edwin stammers, “w-we can- Leave and not do anything, if y-you- If that would be- Be alright.”

“You’re both criminals, one escaped, one wanted,” Batman says.

“R-Right,” Edwin says, going quiet again.

“ _Leave_ ,” Jonathan demands, reaching for the sickle tied to his waist.

Before he can draw it, however, a batarang slices through his glove, making him hiss in pain. He still manages to procure the weapon, pushing Edwin behind the vent and rolling out of the way as Batman lunges to grab him. As the Bat goes for him again, Jonathan kicks his leg up and brings it down hard, knocking another batarang out of his hand, slashing the sickle at his foe’s face. Batman quickly deflects the attack with a gauntlet, catching the curved blade on one of the prongs and pulling Jonathan close to knee him in the gut. Falling back and dropping his weapon, the rogue all but snarls and rights himself, using his long legs to sweep Batman’s out from under him as he retrieves the sickle again.

Fumbling in his suit jacket as he panics, Edwin flees from the skirmish, avoiding getting caught up in it until he can find something with which to assist. It takes him a long while, but he finally retrieves a pen shaped instrument from his inside pocket, twisting the top to activate the electroshock weapon concealed within. Taking a deep breath, he rushes over to the fight, stabbing the pen head into Batman’s arm just as he kicks Jonathan down again, pressing the mechanism down and shocking him. At least- That was the intent.

Realizing it did nothing but remind Batman of his presence, Edwin drops the pen and quickly backs away, holding his hands up in surrender. Batman doesn’t seem to care as he pulls his fist back, ready to punch him- Only for Jonathan to scramble over, pushing Edwin out of the way and receiving the blow instead, square in the chest. The wind being effectively knocked out of him, having no time to prepare for the attack, Jonathan stumbles backwards from the force of it, tripping before either of the other two men can move and falling over the edge of the roof.

Swearing to himself, Batman retrieves his grappling gun and dives after Jonathan, Edwin running over to watch them both freefall down towards the pavement far, far below. Beginning to panic, Edwin paces back and forth as he quickly pulls out his phone, calling for help and silently praying for a quick answer. The call being sent to voicemail and a text coming in, Edwin thanks his lucky stars, fleeing from the side of the roof just as the hook of a grappling gun catches on it inches away from his foot. He anxiously waits for Batman to climb over the side with Jonathan safe, looking up at the night sky as he resumes his near frantic pacing.

As soon as he does, dropping the unconscious rogue, Edwin forgets his fear and rushes over to Jonathan, making sure he’s breathing and still has a pulse. While his heart is racing in his chest, understandable given the multiple story fall, he appears safe all things considered.

“He’ll be fine,” Batman assures.

“Oh, thank god,” Edwin begins to say, until Batman pulls Jonathan away and cuffs him. “Wh-What are you _doing_?!”

“He’s going back to Arkham,” Batman says simply. “And you’re under arrest.”

“No, that’s-” Edwin says, only to be cut off again, this time by the sound of a helicopter.

Both looking up at the incoming aircraft, Batman rolls away at the sight of a gunman aiming for him, though he doesn’t fire. A rope ladder is thrown down, six armed men storming out of the roof entrance distract from it, the largest of them separating from the others as they flank Batman. Quickly helping Edwin pick up Jonathan, the man orders Edwin to start climbing while he gets him, Edwin nodding and thanking him before doing just that. The ladder is pulled up as soon as the man carrying Jonathan has grabbed onto it, the aircraft quickly flying off, Edwin freezing mid-climb and clinging to it for dear life.

It seems like forever and only a second at the same time before he’s being lifted into the helicopter by familiar people, and again before the man carrying Jonathan is helped in as well. Edwin hurries to sit by Jonathan, squeezing his hand when they begin to descend and staying close by when they land in the lower East Side, helping to get him into the limousine and thanking the men in the helicopter over and over until he has to get in as well. He can hardly stammer out the destination to Mr. Frederickson as he holds Jonathan in his lap, trying to force himself to breathe how Jonathan had shown him how to sometime ago.


	3. Close Proximities

Waking with a gasp, Jonathan struggles against the blankets over him, thrashing as his eyes strain to make sense of a blurry, unfamiliar room. He shouts something unintelligible when a hand touches his arm, flinching away from the feeling and falling back again.

“It’s alright, Jon, you’re alright!” someone shouts, someone Jonathan takes a moment to identify as Edwin.

“You- Where…?” he asks, breathing hard as he sits up in the bed- _a bed_ , rather than the floor of a cell.

“We’re in the apartment suite,” Edwin explains. “The one I’ve set up for you to use when you need it.” _Which you obviously haven’t, given the dust_ , he neglects to add.

“Did he follow you?” Jonathan asks.

“No one will discover us here,” Edwin assures. “I’ve made sure of it. You’re safe now, I promise.”

Nodding, Jonathan rubs his eyes and grumbles to himself. Edwin sits on the side of the bed next to him and carefully hands him his glasses, which Jonathan takes and thanks him for. He puts them on and looks around, taking in the room’s interior.

Satisfied with his grasp of his surroundings, he focuses on the older man again and asks, “do you have somewhere permanent to stay? You should move in if you don’t.”

“You’re the more notorious criminal by far,” Edwin points out, avoiding the question. “It would do you good to have somewhere to lie low without risk of being found.”

“But you’re paying for it,” Jonathan returns.

“For _you_ to use,” Edwin says.

“I haven’t,” Jonathan points out. “Ever. When would I need a _penthouse_?”

“You can if you need to, Jo-” Interrupted by a yawn, Edwin lightly shakes his head, rubbing his own eye as well.

Not surrendering out right, Jonathan says, “you should sleep. You’re tired.”

Edwin nods and stands up, stopping by the door to say, “whether you decide to live here or not, I won’t be leaving until I’m certain you’re well. I promise that.”

Laying back in the bed, keeping his glasses on to continue studying the room a bit more, Jonathan says, “goodnight, E. Get some rest.”

“You as well,” Edwin replies. “Goodnight, J.”

They continue to go back and forth like this for a few days, politely trying to convince the other to stay, saying they don’t mind to leave so the other can live in the space, especially after Jonathan discovers Edwin had been living in a hotel since he returned to Gotham. Though as the days go by, both let the not-quite-argument fade away and die as even Jonathan’s stubbornness begins to wane, growing accustomed to the new surroundings and, more importantly, the utter lack of surprise visitors. Eventually, they both silently accept that they’ve become roommates- Not to say that either dislike the arrangement. Rather, ultimately, very much the opposite, relishing the companionship despite Jonathan’s refusal to admit it verbally. While Edwin still leaves for the day, it’s nice to occupy the same space as him in the morning and evening, even if they’re in their separate corners. Jonathan can get used to sharing a living space, if it’s like this, with someone like Edwin.

“Remind me why we’re watching _this_?” Jonathan grumbles, scowling in disapproval at the DVD case in his hand.

“ _Because_ ,” Edwin says as he puts the disc in the player, “it’s Danny Elfman’s birthday today, and you know I quite enjoy watching movies for famous birthdays.”

“Why is that again?” Jonathan asks, raising an eyebrow as Edwin sits at the other end of the couch.

“A habit borrowed from a friend,” Edwin answers. Picking up the remote, he adds, “besides, you _like_ Sleepy Hollow.”

“The _book_ , yes, very much so,” Jonathan says, scowling.

“Then I’m sure you’ll enjoy poking fun at the movie as much as I do,” Edwin says with a mischievous smirk, pressing play.

Scoffing, Jonathan readjusts himself in his seat, giving Edwin an unimpressed look as he skips the previews and the opening credits begin to roll. Shushing him teasingly, Edwin pulls his blanket tighter around himself, nestling into his corner of the couch with a broad smile, something Jonathan can’t keep the sides of his lips from curling ever so slightly at, shaking his head and turning his attention to the screen as well.

Despite his best efforts, Jonathan finds himself actually _enjoying_ laughing at the stark inconsistencies with the tale he’s oh so familiar with as the film progresses, eventually developing something like appreciation for the Gothic, grim, and eerie tone. Something Edwin doesn’t seem to share fully, Jonathan catching him making squeamish faces at shots of blood and jumping at a few scenes. Without even realizing, Jonathan subtly scoots closer, letting Edwin grab ahold of him as he puts his arm around him, the inventor hiding his face against his shoulder. Once he finally registers the arms clinging tightly to his thin body and his own arm around the other, a brief feeling of embarrassment gives way to a pleasant warmth, Jonathan fondly watching the man fixed on the television in abject horror before half hugging him closer. 

He somewhat smiles to himself as the feeling continues to grow, letting his chin rest atop Edwin’s head as the pleasant warmth gradually spreads over him, from his chest to his face and then his- Oh. _Oh. Oh god._ Stammering some reason out, Jonathan quickly jumps up from his seat, badly startling Edwin in the process, and quickly rushes towards his own room, keeping his body and suddenly bright red face turned away from Edwin. If he can just make it there, he can hop in the shower, cool himself off, wait for this to pass, and pretend like-

“Jon?” Edwin asks worriedly, pausing the film. “Is everything alright?”

_Damn_. Freezing in place, not even making it five steps, he tries to will the shake in his voice away as he answers, “y-yes, I was only- I’m tired. Heading to bed.”

“You’re very flushed,” Edwin points out, standing up and walking over to Jonathan. “Are you feeling well?”

“Yes, just-” Jonathan cuts himself off as Edwin tries to turn him around.

Shaking his head, Edwin insists, “let me check your temperature and- Oh my…” 

He covers a gasp when Jonathan stops resisting him, letting the inventor get a good look at the root of Jonathan’s problem.

His _own_ face flushed as well now, Edwin looks away and mumbles, “m-my apologies…”

“No, I- I’m sorry,” Jonathan splutters out before he can stop himself. “About- About this, and- I- I meant to tell you I lo- B-But I- I didn’t want to make you-”

Recalling the oddly close proximity they had shared just before Jonathan jumped up, Edwin melts under the realization, gazing up at him to coo, “oh, Jonathan…”

“I- I understand i-if you don’t-” The severity of his situation, both the emotional and physical sense of it, fully catching up to him, Jonathan finds his sentence dying in his throat.

Daring to step half an inch closer, refraining from reaching out to take his hand, Edwin says, “I have a feeling you know I never stopped, dear.”

“I-” Jonathan hesitates before mumbling, “it shouldn’t have happened like this… I should’ve- Not like this…”

All the more enamoured by his ever old fashioned ways, Edwin can’t help but smile and say, “anyway is better than never.” He pauses for a second before reaching up for his cheek, asking, “may I-?”

Confused but trusting Edwin, Jonathan leans down enough for the shorter man to reach him- Only to be led down further, the other’s lips seizing his and making him gasp shortly, before giving in fully. His eyes opening wide before fluttering closed, Jonathan can feel his pulse quicken as he lets Edwin guide him, unsure of what to do or say or even if he’s _supposed_ to do or say anything. The already confusing emotions, more than he’s used to feeling, only increase as the seconds tick by and Jonathan allows himself to be pulled closer, one of Edwin’s hands cupping his cheek as the other arm holds him close around his waist. 

Part of him is terrified by the warm embrace and the swarm of feelings, but he soon finds himself melting into the other man’s touch, slowly returning the kiss and leaning into it as he wraps his arms around Edwin as well. His mind is both buzzing and blank as he tries to put more than a decade’s worth of well guarded love into the kiss, trying to convey the things he’s hidden even from himself, to make up for all the years he’d ignored them, but all too soon Edwin pulls away for breath, an unmistakable, almost _painful_ yearning returning to him despite Jonathan being unable to identify it previously.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, Edwin moves his hand from Jonathan’s cheek to flatten against his chest, huskily asking, “would you like some help with-”

“No!” Jonathan answers, far too quickly. Trying to amend himself, he adds, “we- We really shouldn’t, I’ll just- I usually l-let it go away…”

“You don’t have to,” Edwin assures.

Studying his face for a moment, trying to read him and think clearly through the haze, Jonathan slowly nods. Smiling sweetly, Edwin gives him a second, shorter kiss that still makes his head spin, gently taking him by the hand.

Clearing his throat, Jonathan says, “I- Warn you that I'm, er, not much to look at…” While it's phrased humorously, complete with a slight chuckle and that awkward smile, his apprehension is clear.

“Are you sure you're comfortable with this?” Edwin asks, suddenly concerned again.

“Yeah- Yes,” Jonathan affirms. “Just- A forewarning. I'm no easier on the eyes, um- Y'know…”

Looking at him for a moment, Jonathan trying his best to maintain eye contact, Edwin finally smirks and slyly reassures, “allow me to be the judge of _all_ of that.”

His ability to speak leaving him yet again, Jonathan meekly stares at Edwin, not putting up any resistance as he leads him away to the very room he was just trying to escape to.

Sitting Jonathan on the side of his bed, Edwin kisses his cheek, gently holding the other as he says, “tell me if you need me to stop, alright?”

“I, ah-” Jonathan stammers, “I haven’t- It’s, uh, been a while…”

“You needn’t worry about that,” Edwin reassures. “Are you ready?”

When he nods, Edwin smiles and strokes his thumb against the other’s cheek. Guiding him to spread his legs somewhat, Edwin gives Jonathan another kiss, feeling more than hearing him whimper as their lips touch, running his hands down Jonathan’s thighs. Pulling away with a playful nip, Edwin kneels between Jonathan’s legs, palming his clothed erection and making him gasp as he reaches to free the scientist from his confines.

He doesn’t even pull them past his upper legs before the root of Jonathan’s problem springs up to attention, drawing a sharp gasp from him, stopping Edwin in his tracks with his mouth hanging open in shock. How could he help it? He's not just long, but surprisingly _thick_ , twitching once under his gaze. Uncut, red and needy, a small drop of precum already leaking from him. Edwin never considered size alone to matter, but _good Lord_ \- He rights himself, hurriedly pulling the garment the rest of the way down. Trying not to waste any time to avoid Jonathan getting shy, Edwin kisses down his thigh, smiling at the way he gasps and shuffles ever so slightly. Definitely a sensitive spot. Filing that away for later, he wraps his fingers around the man’s cock, earning him another sharp gasp and twitch, gently grazing the skin of his inner thigh with his teeth. Edwin trails a finger up the underside of his length, feeling himself stirr as he watches Jonathan struggle to remain as silent and stoic as possible, lips firmly pressed together as small, low hums manage to escape. His hips involuntarily rock forward as Edwin runs his thumb over the tip, a groan nearly escaping his lips as he lolls his head back, his brow furrowing from the strain of keeping quiet. Wetting his palm, Edwin begins slowly pumping him, all the way from tip to base, over and over. Jonathan shudders as he's finally given proper attention, sweat beginning to collect on his brow.

Feeling Jonathan squirm and wriggle more and more under his ministrations, Edwin decides to move forward, taking him by surprise and kissing the vein along the side of his length. Jonathan can’t help but jerk forward at the ungodly good feeling, balling a fist into the sheets and screwing his eyes shut. Smiling fondly, Edwin licks his lips before sucking the engorged head, Jonathan shuddering as he does so. Slowly easing him along, he presses more kisses along his shaft, gradually adding in open mouthed kisses then long strokes with his tongue, switching sides with each patterned act, catching the pearlescent precum leaking from him. One hand seeks out Jonathan's pulse around the hinge of his thigh, firmly pressing and rubbing circles there with his thumb, and Edwin's other hand travels to seek out his testicles- also of a considerable size, the inventor involuntarily rubbing his legs together at the thought of the mess he'd make- gently groping one and delighting in the way they both jump. Twisting his head away, Jonathan clamps a hand over his mouth, smothering a particularly embarrassing sound. Looking up at him, Edwin frowns as Jonathan continues to stubbornly struggle. He recalls him once mentioning a history of one night stands, an indignant reply to another rogue's teasing on a particularly testy day, and Edwin can't help but wonder if one or more experiences lead him to be so forcefully quiet.

One hand still cupping his testicles, Edwin lets off of Jonathan to pull the scientist's hand away, saying, "it's alright, dear. Look at me. You're alright."

Panting, Jonathan hesitantly listens, absentmindedly biting his lip as he opens his eyes to stare down at Edwin, his half lidded, icy blue eyes practically melting from the heated gaze. Flashing him a reassuring smile, Edwin slowly returns to his work, kissing his shaft and gently sucking along a vein while still looking up at him. His heart soars as Jonathan lets out a short but _beautiful_ whine, letting himself relax ever so slightly. Beginning to massage his balls with a thumb, Edwin drags his tongue down his length and then up the sensitive underside of it. At last, bracing a warning hand against Jonathan’s inner thigh, Edwin hollows his cheeks and envelopes him in his mouth, Jonathan barely managing to strangle out a swear. Adding small strokes at the base of his cock, Edwin goades him along like that, soon finding a gentle but thorough rhythm. A rhythm that drives Jonathan wild, if the fingers quickly tangling in his strawberry blond hair are anything to go by. Feeling Jonathan hesitate against him, he taps his leg, letting him know that he’s allowed, _encouraged_ even, to move. And move he does, desperately trying to be careful and not choke Edwin as he rocks into his mouth, his head leaning forward again, a low groan floating down to the inventor. Moaning in return, Edwin rolls and swirls his tongue against Jonathan, sucking as he moves himself in his mouth, his hand working against him, pulling another pleased sound from the psychologist. Letting Jonathan adjust to the long inexperienced but immensely pleasurable feeling, obviously enjoying himself, Edwin soon puts both of his hands on his hips to stop him.

Pulling back off Jonathan with an audible pop, Edwin looks up again and asks, "is this alright?"

Jonathan nods quickly, mouthing words he can't find the breath to carry out.

Rubbing his thumbs into his hips, Edwin allows himself a coquettish tone as he furthers, "would you mind something further?"

"Fuh- Further…?" Jonathan asks. "Is that- Um…"

Edwin nods, kissing Jonathan's belly.

Somehow managing to flush more, he sheepishly nods, hoarsely saying, "I don't know if I'll…"

Kissing his thigh, Edwin gently says, "don't you worry about that, it's not important."

Clearing his throat and wetting his lips again, Edwin ghosts his hand back down to the other’s thighs, the opposite holding Jonathan steady as he takes him into his mouth once again. Bobbing his head along, Edwin moves up and down his cock before suddenly taking Jonathan into his throat, sliding down his length until the bush of ginger hair there tickles his nose. Holding him steady, Edwin moans when he twitches in his throat, managing to not gag off of the nearly choking mass. Pulling back again, monitoring his breathing, Edwin returns to his gentle starting rhythm from before, moaning to further stimulate him. Jonathan automatically throws his head back again as he tries to adjust to this new sensation, the tightness of Edwin’s throat driving him wild alone, not to mention the vibrations as he hums along, and the constriction of him swallowing around him. Good Lord, it's- The grip on Edwin's hair tightening, Jonathan attempts to choke something out, a warning perhaps, only for it to get caught in a silent scream to the ceiling as he completely loses control. Edwin isn't entirely surprised, taking Jonathan fully again as he empties down his throat, running his tongue against the underside of his shaft and helping him ride out the waves of almost painful pleasure. He nearly chokes from the sheer amount of it, but Edwin manages, carefully massaging his thigh as he cums. God knows it must _really_ have been a long time, knowing Jonathan's stubbornness… Sucking him dry and finishing him off, Edwin removes himself and wipes the excess from his chin.

Panting, Jonathan catches Edwin's shoulder and huffs out, "did- Did you-"

Immediately hyper aware of the uncomfortable stiffness in his pants, Edwin ignores it and gently pats Jonathan's knee, saying, "that's unimportant as long as you-"

"Edwin," Jonathan interrupts with as serious an expression as he can manage. "You should… You-"

Unable to form the words, he guides Edwin’s hand up his leg to rest on his hip, giving him a slightly glazed but meaningful look.

“Do…” Edwin tentatively asks. “Do you want me to take y-”

Jonathan quickly shakes his head, tossing about his brown locks and causing more to stick to his sweat soaked brow.

Trying again, Edwin asks, “do you… Want to take _me_?”

His gradually reawakening cock twitching at the image his question conjured up, Jonathan nods enthusiastically, still searching for his words.

“Of course,” Edwin smiles, trying to mask the excitement in his voice as he stands. Walking towards the door, he adds, “I’ll be right back.”

Jonathan can only nod again in acknowledgement, letting himself fall back onto the bed, gradually pulling himself up on it and pushing his pants off from around his ankles with his heels. Christ, he's _still_ seeing stars from how hard he came. Through the haze of lust and old sensations, what’s really minutes seems like mere seconds before Edwin is back, completely naked on the bed and settled on his knees before Jonathan.

“Hold on just a moment, dearest,” he says gently, kissing Jonathan’s hip.

He momentarily ponders what Edwin means, then a sudden cold on his dick wipes his mind clean with a grunt. He looks up as the smaller man rolls a condom onto him and lovingly covers him in cool lubricant, stroking him with that masterful hand, his length hardening in his grasp, momentarily distracted by the bareness of Edwin before him. He can’t stifle a keening sound as Edwin takes his hand away, though he’s startled into silence again when he appears above him, straddling his hips. The warmth from his body alone makes Jonathan's cock pulse, the man's own slightly poking his stomach only exciting him further.

“Give me your hands, please?” Edwin says, phrasing it as a question.

How could he deny such an angel? Jonathan fans out his fingers, letting Edwin lock his with them. He’s soon grateful for the gesture as Edwin’s ass brushes up against his cock, causing him to squeeze his hands and jerk towards the sensation.

“Hold- Still, Jon,” Edwin says, a strain in his voice that wasn’t there before. “Just for now.”

Jonathan nods and does his best to do so as Edwin lowers himself onto his throbbing cock, taking full advantage of gripping his hands as he struggles. Moving agonizingly slow, his thighs involuntarily squeeze around Jonathan's waist, small sounds leaving his lips as he's stretched open. Even though he had prepped himself, Jonathan is still _a lot_ to take in, feeling almost as if he’s being split, and he _had_ been experiencing a dry spell himself.

"Oh, _god_ , Jon," he whimpers, pausing for a moment, arms threatening to give out as they tremble, Jonathan struggling to remain still.

Despite all his efforts, as Edwin nears the last few inches, he involuntarily bucks his hips up, bottoming out completely and knocking Edwin onto his stomach with a sound between pain and pleasure.

“Oh sh- S-s- Sorry-” Jonathan quickly says, reading too much into the pain. “I duh- Didn’t- Ngh, _ah_ \- I’m s-so-”

“It’s okay,” Edwin gasps. “Just give me a moment- To adjust.”

Placing his hands on Jonathan's shoulders and laying there for a moment, Edwin squeezes his eyes shut as he feels the pleasurable pain slowly dissolve into numbness, his nerves buzzing as he feels Jonathan's heart hammering in his chest. Taking his time, he pushes himself up to sit again, moaning as the change in position adds pressure to just the right spot. Careful to keep himself restrained as Edwin slowly begins moving again, Jonathan elects to look up and watch him, quickly deciding that it only made it harder to see him slip in and out of the darling man. It takes him a few moments, but Edwin finds a comfortable rhythm again, another couple before Jonathan dares to move against him. It’s slow, horribly so, but Jonathan lets Edwin adjust, moaning and praising him for doing nothing at all. All of a sudden, however, something feels wrong to Jonathan, which only confuses him. It takes his numb yet racing mind a moment to figure it out, a brief flicker of helplessness urging him to act.

“Can I-” Jonathan raises a leg, scolding himself for this insecurity, but evidently communicating perfectly as Edwin nods and lifts himself off.

Switching positions, Edwin helps guide Jonathan back inside him, whining as he’s entered again. Jonathan has to catch himself before he rams into him, forcing himself to ease into their rhythm once more. It doesn’t help when Edwin wraps a leg around his waist, forcefully grinding back against him, making those _beautiful_ noises.

He continues to not get the message until Edwin finally says, “darling- You can go faster- P-Please.”

Hesitating for half a second, reminded of how long it had been since he so much as kissed someone else, Jonathan readjusts himself and quickens his thrusts, evidently much to Edwin’s delight, the inventor arching his back and gasping. He gradually continues from there, going harder and faster until Edwin is clinging to him, moaning into his ear. He can hardly contain himself then, despite struggling against it, feeling that telltale tightening in his groin.

Attempting to warn Edwin, he gasps out, “I- I’m gonna- I-I’m-”

Unable to finish his request, Edwin jumps ahead, seizing Jonathan’s mouth with his own and working against him. Jonathan follows suit, pushing his long tongue into Edwin’s mouth, a low moan seeping out into the kiss as he comes undone again, shuddering and jerking against him. Desperately taking a hand to his own erection, Edwin gives himself a few tugs until he comes as well, spurred on by the white hot feeling of Jonathan buried as far in him as he can be, continuing to grind against him as they both ride out their highs.

Breaking the kiss, Jonathan hovers over Edwin, their foreheads together, fighting to catch his breath and grunting when he pulls himself out, accompanied by a wet sound. As soon as he’s not in risk of crushing Edwin, he collapses, still panting, laying on his back and looking up at the ceiling. He can't help but flinch when the rosy haired bookish inventor tries to curl up to him, prompting Edwin to raise his head in concern.

"Are you alright?" he asks, gently touching Jonathan's arm.

Involuntarily pulling his arm away, Jonathan hurriedly answers, "I'm fine, I just- I'm fine. I'm fine."

Frowning, Edwin readjusts himself to sit up with a slight wince, asking, "is this too much too soon?"

Jonathan hesitates, worrying about what to say, but finally manages to nod. Much to his surprise, Edwin doesn't shout at him, or call him any names, or even try to convince him that he's being ridiculous.

Instead, he asks, "would you be more comfortable if you still slept alone?"

Jonathan nods again before he realizes it. Smiling in understanding, Edwin stands up, removes the condom from his now _boyfriend_ , moves his miraculously unmarked shirt, cleans Jonathan’s stomach of the mess he’d made, and fixes the sheets over him, gently tucking a piece of his sweaty hair behind his slightly pointed ear and kissing his forehead. He mumbles something Jonathan's head is buzzing too loudly to comprehend, his eyes opening slightly as he walks towards the door. He watches Edwin linger momentarily before stepping out, leaving the door open a crack. Jonathan frowns to himself, only then realizing his glasses are still somehow clinging to his face, crooked as they may be. Removing them and folding them up, he looks at them for a moment, feeling a sudden exhaustion mixed with a sort of bubbling feeling in his chest come over him. He sets his glasses on the table, rolling over to face away from the door. If he was conscious enough, that old fashioned part of Jonathan would be ashamed of himself for what had just transpired. Fortunately, between the blissful exhaustion and the lingering feeling of Edwin’s warm body against his, he couldn’t care less as his eyes droop closed, still trying to place that strange feeling…

When he awakes in the morning, Jonathan is half disappointed, half relieved to find no one in his bed with him, which is an all around confusing feeling. It takes him a moment to realize why, a warm blush creeping over his face as he recalls the _intimate_ help Edwin had given him with a _personal_ problem last night… A feeling of doubt suddenly seizes him; he’d said he loved him, he’d said he never _stopped_ loving him, but people tend to say things during such acts. Christ- For that matter, they shouldn’t have done it to begin with! It was shameful! They weren’t together, they didn’t- Well, they did talk about it shortly beforehand, and Jonathan was coming to terms with himself, but- But Jonathan manipulates people for a living, how does he know he didn’t just trick him? He could’ve gotten over him while he was away, and Jonathan just pulled him back for his own gain.

Sighing, he sits up on the side of the bed, putting his glasses on before grabbing his sweatpants from the floor. Fixing his shirt, he quietly creeps out of his room and into the quiet apartment, only lit by the rising sun. Until the lightswitch is suddenly flipped on, Edwin yawning as he passes Jonathan by, moving somewhat slowly and gingerly.

“Good morning, dearest,” he mumbles, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Jonathan tries to reply, he really does, but can only stand rooted to the spot and watch as he heads over to the coffee maker. Why is he still so nervous? He said- But then again, a few others said that too, and they all… Jonathan slowly walks over to the couch, off to the side from the kitchenette and Edwin, sitting facing away from him. Edwin furrows his brow at this, but says nothing of it, continuing to make himself breakfast and electing to carefully sit in one of the chairs on either side of the couch, all angled to face the coffee table.

“Did you sleep well, _Liebling_?” Edwin asks, stirring his coffee before taking a sip.

He frowns when Jonathan doesn’t answer, glancing over to see him staring at the floor. He shifts in his chair to fully face Jonathan, trying to read his body language. He never was good at that.

“Is everything alright?” he finally asks with care.

Very hesitantly, Jonathan continues to look at the carpet as he stutters, “are- Are we- Do you really…?”

Unable to keep the fond smile from affecting his expression, Edwin sets his mug down on the table and moves over to sit next to Jonathan. He slowly reaches a hand out, pauses, and tucks a piece of hair behind Jonathan’s slightly pointed ear when he doesn’t move away.

“Yes,” Edwin says. “Very much.”

“No, I mean-” Shaking his head, Jonathan pushes his glasses up to pinch the bridge of his nose, saying, “Edwin, I- You’ve heard the news reports, you’ve read most of everyone’s Arkham files by now. You _know_ I- That I’m-...”

His smile dimming, Edwin says, “I’m fully aware of what I say and do, Jon. I’m more in control of myself, my thoughts, and my intentions than you might think. You haven’t made me say, think, or do anything I haven’t or wouldn’t already.”

“I know, but…” Jonathan mumbles.

“I said I love you,” Edwin states firmly, setting his hand on the other's knee, “and we both know I’m _terrible_ at lying.”

Jonathan looks up to study Edwin’s expression, eventually asking, “and that’s after how many years at Julliard?”

His smile returning as a grin, Edwin chuckles and gives Jonathan a peck on the cheek.

“You know I mean it,” he says pointedly. “I meant it when I said it all those years ago, I’ve meant it afterwards, and I still mean it today. _I love you_.”

The smallest, slightest smile teasing the corners of his mouth as well, Jonathan finds himself pleasantly speechless, an odd bubbling feeling in his chest.

“I…” he tries to say, struggling to finish the declaration. “…Yes.”

“I know you do,” Edwin assures. More so smirking now, he playfully adds, “though you can _show me_ by eating breakfast with me.”

Jonathan sighs in faux annoyance, rolling his eyes and standing, trying to keep the warmth in his cheeks from showing. Though as Edwin goes to take his hand to lead him to the kitchenette, he flinches and reflexively pulls his hand away, the bibliophile’s expression falling with concern. Jonathan manages a smile to tell him it’s alright, walking beside him at a comfortable distance. This will take some getting used to- the physical affection as well as everything else- but… For once, Jonathan feels like it’ll be for the best. He can trust Edwin. Trust him that he won’t use him, and that he won’t let himself be used. He hasn’t steered him wrong yet, and if he gets to see him smile, hear him laugh, watch him work, simply _be with him_ every day… It really must be worth getting used to, then.


End file.
